


wishing well

by yodalorian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bickering, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, F/M, NOT EXPLICITLY ROMANTIC, Post-Canon, Post-War, Rated T for language, Wishes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodalorian/pseuds/yodalorian
Summary: Hermione whipped out her wand and fired a jinx at his leg. Draco leapt to his feet, loudly spewing words the portraits of his ancestors were probably scandalized to hear.“Take a walk with me,” she hissed, “or I’m going to go trample the rose bushes your great grandfather planted.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	wishing well

“Good evening, Mr. Malfoy.”

He glanced sullenly up at her through fringes of blond hair. “Granger.”

She crossed her arms. “Are you alright? I mean, you haven’t left this room in days.”

His stormy eyes darkened. “Don’t act like you care. You never have.”

Hermione scowled. He was going to be difficult today, like always. “A lot has happened since we were in school together. A lot. Frankly, I don’t care to hold on to old schoolyard rivalries.”

“Well, I need something to hold on to while I’m imprisoned in my own home.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re not imprisoned, Malfoy.”

“Yeah?” The familiar snarl curled his lips. “What would you call bloody Aurors infesting my house day and night?”

“They’re just here to...clean up.” The dust was finally starting to settle after the war, and the Ministry was determined not to repeat its mistakes and finally excise the last traces of dark magic. Hermione had her own doubts about whether such a thing was possible, but she had tagged along on the visit to Malfoy Manor anyway. Obviously they couldn’t overlook Voldemort’s old headquarters. Draco had made a show of kicking and screaming as he accommodated them, but she sensed he was as anxious to put the last few dark years behind him as anyone else.

“You’re free to come and go as you please,” she reminded him.

“Yeah. Well it doesn’t please me to go anywhere. So leave me alone.”

Normally, Hermione would. She would turn around and stalk off, cursing his stubborn pride under her breath. She’d done that for the past couple of days since she had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor. But something inside of her couldn’t bear watching Draco wither into a shadow any longer. Perhaps it was her heart finally shedding the hard grief that had clung to it through the war. 

Or maybe it was because she had seen Draco gaunt and pale and fading away before. And she had no intention of retreading that bloody path.

“Come on,” she finally said. “At least take a walk with me. You can’t just rot away here.”

Draco glared at her. “A walk? A fucking walk? If you want a bloody damn moonlit romantic walk, Granger, go find Weasel, I know you’re just starving to swallow his tongue, bet you miss how he--”

Hermione whipped out her wand and fired a jinx at his leg. Draco leapt to his feet, loudly spewing words the portraits of his ancestors were probably scandalized to hear.

If she wasn’t going to leave him alone before, she was going to drag him out of his room now. It had turned into a battle of wills, and Hermione never had the restraint to back away from that.

“Take a walk with me,” she hissed, “or I’m going to go trample the rose bushes your great grandfather planted.”

Anger contorted his face, but she knew she had struck his weakness. As much as he pretended not to care about anything, his family was the last solid anchor he had to hold on to. Hermione marched away, and, quietly raining insults down on her, Draco followed.

The sun had already faded below the horizon, and the evening air was cool. Hermione soaked it in, letting it soothe the burning in her chest. “Isn’t this better than your stuffy room?”

Draco slouched next to her, glowering. “No. I’m cold.”

“Get over it.” Hermione walked through the rustling grasses of Malfoy Manor’s gardens, admiring each star that appeared as if someone was up there poking pinpricks of light into the velvety sky. This place wasn’t so bad after all. In the dying light, she could almost feel the darkness that hung over the manor’s stones dissipating into the night, and she let the memories that haunted her flow away too.

Draco had grown tired of his grumbling and lapsed into stony silence. Well, she had managed to get him out here, she might as well keep going and try to make conversation.

“Who brought the peacocks?” she asked.

At first, she thought he was going to spitefully give her the silent treatment. But finally, he mumbled, “My great aunt Lucretia.”

“Interesting. And those willow trees? Who had those planted?”

“There’s no fucking History of the Malfoys class for you to take, Granger,” he spat. “I’m not one of your dry textbooks to stick your nose in and pick apart instead of having friends like a normal person.”

Hermione shot a pointed glare at him. “You had henchmen, not friends, Malfoy.”

He started to retort, but she walked away from him deeper into the gardens. Pushing past curtains of ivy, she stumbled on a circular structure of weathered stones, nestled into a corner that would have been easy to miss. A well.

“Who built this?” She expected him to fire another jab at her, but he was suddenly silent. Hermione glanced at him and saw that the venom had drained from his face, leaving a hollow sort of melancholy.

“My mother,” he mumbled. “The wishing well. She....I used to play around this well. Merlin, I’d nearly forgotten about this place.” His fingers trailed along the rough stone, momentarily lost in memory.

Suddenly, Draco snapped back to himself and his cheeks flushed red. He snatched his hand from the well. “It...it’s nothing. Playground for a child.”

He turned to go, but Hermione caught his wrist and stopped him. “It’s a wishing well. Why don’t we make a wish?”

Draco glanced at her. “Wishes are for fairy tales.” He frowned at her. “Also, you know it’s not real. According to Ardelius’--”

“Ardelius’ seminal work on the branches of magic defines wish-making as mere superstition, a product of chance, false hopes, and a misunderstanding of the purifying properties of metals. I know.”

He turned to face her fully. “You stormed out of Divination in your third year. And now you believe in superstition?”

She offered him a small smile, and moisture touched her eyes. “I could use some false hopes right now.” She took his hand and pressed a Knut into it. It was surprisingly warm.

Quietly, not quite taking his eyes off her, Draco moved closer to the well. He closed his eyes and his lips moved in an inaudible whisper. Perhaps a prayer. The copper coin shone in the starlight and fell into the water with a tiny  _ plop. _

“What did you wish for?”

His gray eyes remained fixed on where the coin had broken the surface of the water. “If we’re believing in fairy tales now,” he whispered, “telling you would make it not come true.”

“Fair enough.” She stepped next to him and closed her eyes, trying to think of her own wish. Something good. That they would be able to rebuild from the shambles of the war. That magic could bloom again into something beautiful, wonderful, instead of the twisted arts of Voldemort. That everything, for once, would be okay. 

Strangely, her thoughts were drawn to the boy at her side. That one day, the ghosts might finally clear from his eyes. That one day, the sun might shed its warmth on his face. That one day, the iciness he wore like armor might melt.

Hermione knew what Draco had wished for. She breathed a whisper into the coin and wished for the same.

It flew in a high, glittering arc and dove into the silvery water. Hermione still didn’t believe in fairy tales, but she had a good feeling this happy ending might come true.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/jedioncer?lang=en)  
> to hear me yell about other dumb things


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